


Late Afternoon Sunshine

by midget_greenie



Category: The Monkees (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:15:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22960819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midget_greenie/pseuds/midget_greenie
Summary: Davy has a sweet, brief, late day interlude with his favorite person.
Relationships: Davy Jones/Peter Tork
Kudos: 23





	Late Afternoon Sunshine

It's late afternoon, and the two of us are alone in our room. I find myself in his lap once again. It doesn't matter how many times I tell myself to stop. As I sit, letting my hands wander through his shiny, sandy hair, I know that there is no way I can stop- not now, maybe not ever.

In the back of my mind, I wonder when the other two will get back, and I hope that I am alert when they do. We don't need another close call. True, we were doing nothing but talking about the events of our day, and the war (the ongoing nightmare that I still don't even begin to understand). However, we were doing this while lying stretched out on my bed, side by side, facing each other. Oh, and we were less than two feet apart. I can see what Our Fearless Leader was perturbed by, especially since he is so very, very... conservative indeed.

His graceful hands fiddle with the collar of my Nehru jacket as we sit in the late afternoon sunshine. The tenderness of the gesture makes me ache in a way that I never have, that I never thought possible. I can no longer hold back; I must kiss him.

Kissing him is unlike kissing anybody else. With the women, I felt distinctly primal and animalistic. That is absent with him. This isn't about sex, at least it isn't at this point. When I'm with him like this, I feel as though I am incorporated into something greater than myself. It's a rush; I'm addicted. Every touch, every kiss serves to quench, and yet deepen, my thirst. It's implied that I shouldn't want this, that it's honestly against nature. But it genuinely feels like I'm doing the rightest thing possible. How does one resist that?

The curtained windows blaze deep golden orange with the now setting sun; the shadows in the room are lengthening. It's a magical and surreal time of day. His hair glows with the light, giving him a look that is more angelic than ever. I'm still on his lap; my forehead rests against his chin. I'm so happy right now I could weep from the sheer joy of it. We are a singular unit, greater than the sum of it's parts. Right now, the world is stopped and I've melted into him and there's absolutely nowhere else on Earth I'd rather be.

The sound of the front door slamming rips into our coccoon. I reluctantly disengage myself from my better half and flop down on my bed. I see him gazing at me intently with large, tawny eyes, head cocked to the side and lower lip between his teeth. A new ache overtakes me, this one wistful. I know that neither of us really understands much of what is going on with us; I can't really expect the others to understand at all.


End file.
